Dark Waters (2013) (35 page)

There were people everywhere. Students with backpacks, seniors clutching checkbooks. The atmosphere was hot and stifling, making her light-headed and woozy. She braced herself against the wall of metal doors.
Please let this be it
. Anna slipped the key in place and opened the box. Inside sat a manila envelope with her name scrawled across it in Papa’s handwriting. A lump the size of an apple lodged in her throat.

This was the last thing her father had sent to her, and would prove his intentions when he’d moved that money. Had he been telling the truth? Because if he had, maybe he’d told the truth about all the other stuff too, but no one had ever believed him. No one except Brent.

Her head started to pound with an incoming headache. Her hands shook as she reached for the letter. There wasn’t time to read it, and maybe she wasn’t ready to face whatever was inside that missive. Maybe she should give it to the RCMP or at least wait
until Holly arrived so she could open it in front of witnesses? That actually made a lot of sense.

She folded the envelope three times and slipped it into the front pocket of her new jeans, which were loose, probably because she’d dropped ten pounds over the last week from stress.

She locked up the box and weaved her way around three students carrying backpacks, and wished her life was that uncomplicated. But even back then, Anna had had a way of making everything somber and serious. A bitter laugh escaped. No matter how emotionally bleak Brent’s life looked, hers wasn’t much better. She’d lost her father and been raped, and even though she pretended she’d dealt with these issues, she hadn’t. Anna had just packed everything carefully away and tried to forget. She’d never been brave or strong. She’d just done denial and aloofness until it was so much a part of her character she didn’t even know who she was anymore. Maybe now was the time to find out.

Outside, the fresh breeze hit her with enough force to jerk her into the present. The envelope crinkled against her hip, reminding her that the worst of the nightmare was over. This would hopefully help identify the men who’d killed the police officers and Peter, and shot that poor guy in the back. They’d stop chasing her, and both she and Brent could go back to their lives, and maybe think about pursuing what they had, slowly, from a distance.

Why this didn’t bring her happiness was probably because her mom was fighting for her life. She curled her fingers into fists as she strode to where Ed had illegally parked on the curb. She opened the door and climbed in.

“I thought you’d run away,” he said simply.

Because that’s what she did. “No.” Not anymore. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t even know there was a medical facility out this way.” Her voice was rough. She didn’t want to lose her mother. Not now. Not when she had so much to say to her for the first time in years.

“It’s not far.”

“Do you want me to drive?” she asked gently. He looked like crap. Pasty skin and a sheen of sweat across his brow.

He shook his head and wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand. Her phone started ringing and it jerked her back into the present. Brent. Her heart gave a little trip. She needed to tell him about finding the envelope, but she really wanted to tell him in person. Or maybe that was just an excuse because she wanted to see him again.
Next time you need a therapy fuck, find someone who doesn’t give a shit
. Not exactly the most romantic words, but at least now she knew he cared even though he didn’t want to. She went to grab her cell, but suddenly she was facing the black barrel of a gun.

“What…?”

“Give me your phone.”

“Ed, I don’t understand—”

“Just give me the damn phone!”

She dug into her bag, pressing the answer button as she handed it over. Ed narrowed his eyes and then rolled down the window. Anna watched him openmouthed as he tossed the cell out of the window. It landed with a crash on the sidewalk.

“They have your mother,” he said gruffly. His eyes were red rimmed, lips disappearing into a mouth pressed firmly closed.

“Who? Who has Mom?” she asked, but instinctively she knew. “So she’s not sick?”

“She could be dead for all I know, Anna. Dead, because of that stupid father of yours and your own damned stubbornness.”

Anna shook her head and edged closer to the door.

“Oh no, you don’t.” He locked her in. He kept the gun trained on her, and somehow managed to throw some plastic strips at her.

She picked them up and stared at them. Zip ties. Blood drained from her head, leaving her dizzy and clueless. Hell. She’d made another mistake. A big one. A deadly one. And she was going to have to deal with it alone.

“Put one around your ankles. Make it tight. I don’t want to crash the car, because if I do, your mother’s dead and I honestly don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“We need to call the cops. They can help us get her back safely—”

“No.
No
cops.” Spittle came out of his mouth. “You didn’t hear his voice when he told me what I had to do. He said you owed him. He’ll kill her if I don’t do exactly what he wants.”

Anna knew precisely who he’d been talking to. The man with no soul. The man who’d murdered Peter in her pristine white kitchen. The man she’d hit over the back of the head with a bottle of pinot grigio. In a flash she also realized she could never go back to that house. Her life had changed irrevocably—whatever she did next, it wouldn’t be there.

“Do it,” Ed insisted, pointing at the ties.

Anna wound one around the bottom of her jeans.

“Tighter.” Ed’s eyes were fierce. No trace of sympathy that he was driving her to her death.

“They’ll kill you too,” she told him quietly.

“No. They promised.” Ed shook his head. “I’m going to get your mother out of there. We’ll escape. Now your wrists, either side of the seat belt so you can’t run away again.”

I don’t do that anymore
. She cinched the tie with her teeth. “What about me?” she asked quietly.

“I’ve always done my best by you, Anna. Paid for school, sent Malcolm away to the States for college. Don’t say I wasn’t good to you.”

“You knew?” Her mouth dropped open as Ed’s gaze shifted uncomfortably away from her. “You knew your son raped me?”

Ed’s eyes flashed wide and he shook his head. “I know you two had sex. I figured you weren’t in a great place to be making those kinds of decisions so I sent him away—”

“Bullshit, Ed! That’s fucking bullshit.” Her stepfather looked enraged by her language, but she didn’t care. “He raped me, and
that’s why I tried to commit suicide—because of your vile, horrible son.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? You are about to deliver me into the hands of murderers. Mom might already be dead. What exactly do I have to lose from telling the truth?” She should have told the truth years ago. Even if no one believed her. But the past didn’t matter. The thought of her mother in the hands of that monster made her go cold. “We need to go to the cops and make a plan. Not wander blindly around, trusting the word of men who’ve already killed at least three people that I know of.”

“Shut up.” Ed’s hands gripped both the gun and the wheel so tight she was either going to get shot or die in a high-speed collision. She tipped her chin. She wasn’t cowering from Ed or the people who’d kidnapped her mother. Brent couldn’t help her right now, but she drew on some of the lessons he’d been trying to teach her. She was tough, she was smart, and she could damn well learn patience.

Brent would be proud of her sticking up for herself, and that thought left a huge gaping hole in her chest. Letting herself love him had been akin to forgiving her father. Just a week ago the thought of that had been impossible. But somehow she’d finally found the strength to absolve not only her father, but herself too. The knowledge gave her strength at a time she desperately needed it.

It had taken her a long time to understand that happiness had nothing to do with respectability or pretty surroundings. External trappings meant little if you weren’t happy on the inside. For a woman who’d surrounded herself with beauty and cared way too much what others had thought of her, it was a bitter realization. It wasn’t houses, or jobs, or flowers that mattered. It was personal connections. The photographs on the mantel. Putting yourself out there. She thought of Peter and how she’d settled for such an insipid relationship because it had been safe. Yes, she’d had her
reasons for living that way, but she was sick of them. Sick of the fear. The restrictions. Anger burnt away the layers surrounding her heart. She didn’t want to be that shallow any more. She wanted to have the courage to be honest about her emotions. To really
feel
. To fall helplessly in love, even if that person didn’t love her back. But she thought Brent might. She remembered his tender lovemaking last night. He just might.

Brent had thought he’d known her through her letters to her father, and she knew suddenly he was right. He did know her. And she’d known him—from the painting that hung over her bed and lulled her to sleep every night. He’d been there for her the same way she’d been there for him, before they’d even met. It meant something. She just needed the chance to prove it.

Ed turned left and started down a winding road. She braced herself, then saw a chopper on the ground, rotors winding up. Until Brent she’d been damaged goods. Now she felt heartbreakingly whole, but it might be too late. She might never get the chance to tell Brent how she felt about him.

Ed slipped his pistol into his jacket pocket, but he was a fool if he thought they wouldn’t find it. A big bald guy pulled him out of the car and frisked him, relieving him of the weapon. While he was patting Ed down, Anna wriggled to get the envelope and managed to slide it inside the front of her panties, just above her pubic bone.

The bald man came around to her side of the car and opened the door. Cut the plastic ties and pulled her out of the car. She searched his gaze, but his eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. “Is my mother OK?”

“She’s fine. If your father hadn’t been such a dick and if you hadn’t caused us so much trouble, your mom would still be enjoying her cruise and none of this would have happened.”

This was her fault?
She opened her mouth in astonishment. He replaced the zip tie with another set of plastic cuffs. He ran his hands over her shoulders, chest, waist, thighs, back, and ankles,
miraculously missing the envelope that nestled low against her crotch. “She’s clean,” he called out.

Anna scanned around to see who he was talking to, then realized he was speaking into a headset. Where was he taking them? He bundled both her and Ed into the chopper, him sitting opposite, a semiautomatic resting on his thigh.

Crap. How on earth could she get them out of this?

Ed looked genuinely distraught, but she wasn’t feeling real empathetic toward him right now. Yeah, he loved her mom, but he’d probably just gotten all three of them killed. He’d known what had happened to her as a teen but he’d never told anyone. He’d actually used the situation to insinuate himself closer to her mother, and pry her further away. The worst thing was, she’d let him. She’d imploded on herself and the only person who’d suffered had been herself.

She made a vow right then and there to never let the bad guys win again. She eyed the gun. Maybe it wasn’t the best time for that sort of revelation, but she had nothing left to lose.

Brent walked slowly across the parking lot of the hospital. He didn’t know much about women, but he did know he didn’t appreciate being a stud service for women with issues.

He’d known having “just sex” was going to be a disaster.
Christ
. He raked his hands down his face. Yes, it had been fantastic, out of this world, but…
dammit
. He gritted his teeth and pushed all thoughts of her away. So they’d had sex. Big fucking deal. Except it had been a big deal, for both of them, and it wasn’t happening again. He liked his life quiet and his women at a distance. Just needed to figure out this disaster Davis had left them in and he could go back to painting his ocean in solitude, which right now sounded as appealing as a cavity search.